‘I know exactly what’s next,’ she said. ‘My mum is going to be seriously pissed off ’cause we’ll be late getting out the door and Louise will yell at us for missing the warm-ups. Look, it’s a perfect day, so chill, Steph.’
In the kitchen, Ned sat in his highchair carefully squishing cubes of cut fruit between his fingers and then sucking the squashy mess from his hands. He crowed with happiness as soon as he set eyes on Maeve. The next instant, he swept the remains of his breakfast onto the floor and stood up as if he was about to dive into her arms. She lifted him out of the highchair and snuggled him on her lap.
Sue set a plate stacked with buttermilk pancakes in the middle of the table.
‘You’ll get covered in mashed banana if you’re not careful. Try not to get it on your leotard.’
‘Hey boofba,’ said Steph, tweaking Ned’s nose. He looked up at her and grinned.
‘He’s not a boofhead,’ said Maeve, stroking his silky dark hair and kissing the top of his head. ‘Ned’s a gorgeous little monkey. Born in the Chinese Year of the Monkey, weren’t you, cheeky boy.’
‘It’s okay, Maeve. In our family, boofba means “bewdiful boy”. It’s a compliment.’
‘He doesn’t need any more compliments,’ said Bianca, tipping maple syrup over her pancakes. ‘Look at what a fat pudding head he has already. As if there aren’t enough conceited boys in the world.’
Maeve nuzzled Ned’s sticky cheek. ‘Don’t listen to her,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘You are perfect.’
‘Give me that boy,’ said Sue. ‘You lot will never get out the door at this rate. I need you all to try the new costumes on before you leave.’
She whisked Ned away from Maeve and took him out to Andy, sitting in the sunshine on the back verandah with the Saturday papers spread around him. Maeve watched as Ned bounced up and down in Andy’s arms. It was weird how much he looked like Andy. Yet everyone said she and Ned looked alike, even if they did have different fathers. They both had the same confusing mix of Asian and European features; skin like pale honey, a spray of freckles across their noses and the same brown eyes flecked with gold and green.
Sue came back in, gathering her thick black hair into a ponytail. It made her look like a teenager, as if she wasn’t much older than Maeve.
‘Okay, team,’ she said. ‘Down to the studio for a fitting.’
Maeve quickly finished her orange juice and the three girls followed Sue to her studio under the house. Three shimmering white costumes lay beside the sewing machine. Sue had spent hours every evening stitching pearly sequins onto the lycra and making floaty, gossamer sleeves from white chiffon. The girls slipped into the outfits and stood in front of Sue while she adjusted the seams of each leotard. Then she stood back, tipped her head to one side and smiled.
‘I know exactly what Einstein meant when he said “Dancers are the athletes of God”. You three look like angels. I can’t wait to see you dancing in the Christmas concert.’
Sue never missed any of Maeve’s performances. She always booked front-row seats, and at the end of the show she was always waiting at the stage door with a bunch of flowers, her face alight with pride.
‘Thanks a million, Sue. My mum would go mental if she had to make this,’ said Steph.
Bianca stretched her hands over her head and twirled in a circle so the sequins caught the sun and sent tiny rainbow prisms of light whirling around the studio. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you,’ she sang as she came to a stop. ‘We all look so gorgeous! Especially me!’
Sue laughed and tousled Bianca’s hair. ‘Is there no end to your vanity, Bianca?’
‘Not that I can see,’ Bianca replied.
Maeve smiled. ‘Thanks, Mum. These are the best costumes ever.’
She put her arms around her mother and kissed her on the cheek. Bianca and Steph jumped forward and hugged her as well. ‘Just like having triplets!’ said Sue, laughing.
‘Your Mum is so cool,’ said Bianca, as they pulled the front door shut behind them. ‘I wish we really were triplets and all lived here.’
‘Our mums are great too, even if they can’t sew,’ said Steph.
‘Sure, but Maeve’s mum is funky. I love her studio – all those piles of fabric, and rows of brushes and paint and all those colours and spangly stuff. She’s a legend.’
Maeve laughed and swung her dance bag in an arc over her head. They ran up Darling Street towards the old school hall where their Saturday classes were held.
Sun streamed in through the arched casement windows and made the dark wood floor gleam in the morning light. A warm breeze drifted in through the open doors and the fans above spun lazily as Maeve picked her way through the clutter of dance bags strewn across the stage, searching for a space of her own. She unlaced her runners and buckled on her tap shoes.
Students poured in through the side door, throwing their gear onto the stage. Louise, the head of the dance school, herded a crowd of little girls in pale pink tights towards the stairs while the senior tap class began their warm-up. There were a dozen girls and five boys in the class. The sound of their tap shoes ricocheted around the hall as they stepped into line. Maeve, Steph and Bianca stood at the back. They’d only been dancing with the senior class since the beginning of second term and they watched the moves of the older students carefully.
In the break between tap and jazz, everyone dived into their bags to retrieve chips or lollies and their drink bottles. Maeve rubbed her palms along her black shorts, feeling heat radiate through the thin lycra.
‘Who do you reckon he is?’ asked Bianca, gesturing into the hall.
A tall, dark-haired boy in a white singlet and long black board shorts stood by the piano talking to Josh.
‘I don’t know. He must be new,’ said Maeve.
‘Fresh,’ said Bianca.
‘What about Josh?’ asked Steph.
‘What about him?’ said Bianca, grinning. ‘I can check out whoever I want. I mean, it’s not like Josh is my boyfriend. Yet. And even if he was, I’m allowed to look, aren’t I?’
‘I hate it when you talk like that,’ said Steph. ‘You sound like a total bimbo.’
‘You’re just jealous,’ said Bianca, tipping her head back to take a swig of water.
Maeve could sense the tension rising between her friends, like the bad feeling she’d had before the glass exploded the night before. She was glad when Louise shouted at them all to take their positions for the jazz lesson. She leapt off the stage and cartwheeled across the hall.
The warm-up for jazz was always long and gruelling. The boys groaned loudly as Louise tried to get everyone to do the splits. Maeve slid down to the floor easily. She twisted and turned, feeling the tension and release as she stretched her muscles as far as they could go. She could feel the music throbbing up through the floor and she shut her eyes, savouring the sensation.
Louise put an instrumental version of Rob Thomas’s ‘This is How a Heart Breaks’ on the CD player and they did their first run through the routine.
‘C’mon, kids. You can work harder than this. You know we’ve only got six weeks until the Christmas show, and we have to get these routines tight.’
Maeve bit her lip and concentrated, then let the music take hold. On either side of her, Steph and Bianca fell into the rhythm. As if in prayer, the three of them were bound to the dance. Maeve loved that moment in time when their bodies moved in perfect harmony. They were in sync again – the arguments, the tension, the exploding glass, every bad thing swept away by the music.
3
Keep it sweet
Outside, after the class, the girls flopped down in the cool green grass beneath the date palms.
Josh and the new boy came out and walked past the girls as if they weren’t even there, but Maeve saw Josh glance back over his shoulder and smile at Bianca.
‘Say something interesting, something intelligent that’s going to make him think I’m really too busy to notice him,’ whispered Bianca.
&
nbsp; ‘Why?’ said Maeve. ‘You are totally aware of everything he does.’
‘Not the point, dummy. I want him to try harder.’
‘I don’t think Josh has ever tried hard to do anything,’ said Steph. ‘I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for him to please you.’
‘Not Josh, the other guy, the cute one.’
‘You mean Omar,’ said Steph.
‘How do you know his name?’ asked Bianca.
‘He plays footy with Josh and Tim. I think Josh talked him into coming. They do break-dancing together too. Or something like that. Footy-playing break-dancers.’ Steph laughed.
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I didn’t want to encourage you.’
Bianca stuck her tongue out at Steph.
‘Hey, Omar!’ yelled Bianca. ‘See you next week.’
Omar turned and gave her a brilliant smile.
‘Did you see that?’ asked Bianca.
Maeve laughed. ‘You are so classic.’
She pulled out her mobile and called home to tell her mum that they were finished and about to head off to Newtown. It was only in the past few weeks that Sue had agreed to let Maeve go outside Balmain without her.
The three girls swung onto the bus and squashed up in a seat made for two. Bianca plunged around in the bottom of her backpack and pulled out a silk leopard-print bag. ‘Check this out. Only thirty dollars.’
‘I’ve seen them for twenty bucks at Balmain Market,’ said Steph.
Bianca looked blank and stuffed the bag away. ‘Well, I thought it was cool.’
‘It is cool. It’s just you paid too much for it,’ said Steph. ‘But then, you can afford it, I guess.’
Maeve put a hand on Steph’s arm to stop her saying anything else. Bianca didn’t think she was rich but her house in Birchgrove had sweeping views over the harbour and her parents gave her more pocket money than any girl in Year 8.
‘Did you get one of these?’ asked Bianca, pulling out a small card with a picture of two girls dressed in pink, their arms wrapped around each other.
‘No way! Jess Turner’s sixteenth birthday party! She said that she was being so “exclusive” she wasn’t inviting anyone in Year 8.’
‘Well, she invited me,’ said Bianca.
‘Who’s Alanna?’ asked Maeve.
‘She’s at Balmain High,’ said Steph. ‘She’s Jess’s stepsister – and her best friend, or so she says. They are truly annoying, the pair of them.’
Maeve could feel trouble brewing again. Trying not to meet Steph’s disapproving gaze, she took the invitation from Bianca and turned it over. The card was pale pink with gold stars announcing the details of the party on the back.
‘“No pressies, no entry”,’ read Maeve. ‘“Party in pink. Finger food. BYO limited alcohol.” What do they mean, limited?’
‘They are totally under-age,’ said Steph. ‘How can they even have that on their invites? I mean, sneaking booze in is one thing but advertising sneaking it in! Tacky.’
‘Do you have to be so anal?’ snapped Bianca. ‘If you were the one invited, you wouldn’t be so picky.’
‘I’m not being picky. Even if I wanted to go, I wouldn’t be allowed if my parents saw this invite,’ said Steph.
‘I wouldn’t be able to go even if Mum didn’t see it,’ said Maeve.
‘Neither of you were invited, so it doesn’t matter, does it?’
Maeve and Steph exchanged glances. Maeve linked arms with both her friends and dragged them to their feet. ‘Then me and Steph need some serious retail therapy as consolation. C’mon – let’s shop.’
Maeve had been to Newtown with her mum more times than she could count, but somehow it felt different being there with Steph and Bianca. With Sue, she had to spend ages hanging around in the button shop while her mother sorted out what she needed for her next design or picked through piles of fabric looking for the best offcuts of coloured silks. Today she wouldn’t have to go anywhere she didn’t want to. It was as if she was in charge of her own life – and it felt good.
They wandered down King Street, window-shopping and traipsing in and out of funky clothes boutiques. As they walked west along the street, they passed Newtown Secondary School of Performing Arts.
‘I so want to go there for HSC,’ said Bianca wistfully. ‘But Dad won’t let me. He said I had to keep my options open. I know already I only want to sing. I can’t believe he wouldn’t let me even audition. And Mum was pathetic and said she thought he had a point. When I think I could have gone there instead of St Philomena’s! No uniform, no chapel, and boys as well!’
‘No us, either,’ said Maeve.
‘Yeah, you wouldn’t trade us for a bunch of grungy guys, would you?’ asked Steph.
On the other side of the road, a boy on a skateboard came gliding out of the school gates and turned down King Street.
‘Cute,’ said Bianca, as if she hadn’t even heard Steph’s question. ‘Bit of a short-arse, but not bad.’
‘God, Bunka. You are so boy-crazy,’ said Steph. ‘Haven’t you got anything better to think about?’
‘What? Like world peace? Like you would know so much about it with a brother fighting a twisted war in Iraq!’ Bianca tossed her hair over her shoulder.
Steph blushed angrily. Quickly Maeve stepped between them. ‘Let’s cool it. We’re meant to be having fun. Why don’t we go and get a granita?’
She slipped her arms around their shoulders and tugged at the friendship braids. ‘Keep it sweet, guys. Triple treat, remember?’
4
Sudden and laughing
Maeve and Steph ran all the way up the hill and arrived at school breathless. It always happened when Maeve dropped by Steph’s house on the way to the bus stop. Maeve loved the cheerful chaos of the Maguire household, the football boots scattered along the hall, the noisy arguments between Steph and her brothers, but somehow they always managed to miss the bus.
St Philomena’s stood on the top of a hill in a street lined with narrow terrace houses. Lush green lawns rolled down in front of the old Victorian mansion that now was home to a few elderly nuns. Purple and white jacaranda blossom lay scattered across the grass and the flowerbeds that curved around the pathways were ablaze with roses. Maeve pushed open the heavy cast-iron gate and they ran along the path, sending a flutter of rose petals into the warm morning air.
Everyone in English was working in groups when Maeve and Steph handed their late passes to Mrs Spinelli. As soon as they joined Bianca, she leant across and whispered to Maeve in a sharp, sulky voice, ‘Mum won’t let me go to the party unless you come too.’
‘Me? I’m not even invited!’ said Maeve.
‘Well, you are now. I told Jess and she said it’s fine to bring you.’
‘What about Steph?’ whispered Maeve.
‘She said her parents wouldn’t let her.’
‘You mean, I’m not cool enough,’ said Steph bitterly.
‘You know that’s not why,’ said Bianca.
Maeve looked from one friend to the other. ‘Even if I could get permission, I don’t know if I’d want to go, Bunka. I hardly know Jess.’
‘Please, Maeve. I so want to go, but Mum and Dad said only if you come with me.’
‘Why me?’
‘Because they think you’re so smart and sensible that you’ll stop me doing anything stupid.’
‘That shows they don’t know me at all. I’m your minder, am I?’
‘Please?’
‘Don’t get excited. I’ll have to ask my mum. I’m not allowed to do parties – not at night. Not yet.’
As soon as the teacher turned away, Bianca slipped the pink invitation into Maeve’s hand. ‘Think about it,’ she whispered into Maeve’s ear. ‘Please.’
Maeve clipped off the comment about alcohol at the bottom of the card and then took it downstairs and handed it to her mother. She’d already tried to get Sue to agree without seeing the invitation but Sue had been hardline. ‘It can’t
be much of a special occasion if they haven’t even handed out proper invitations. It’s probably just some big, out-of-control free-for-all.’
Sue looked slightly defeated when Maeve handed her the amended card. A good sign. She turned the pink invitation over in her hand.
‘Look, darling, you’re only thirteen. This girl is turning sixteen. I really don’t think it’s appropriate.’
‘I’m nearly fourteen. It’s not my fault that I’m young for my year level. Besides, what’s a year or two anyway?’
‘No, Maeve.’
‘But Mum, if you don’t let me go, Bianca won’t be allowed to go. So you’re letting both of us down. Please. We won’t stay long. We’ll come home when you say.’
‘Maybe you should let her go,’ said Andy, looking up from the couch where he was watching The Bill.
‘I really don’t need you weighing in on this,’ said Sue.
‘I’m not “weighing in”. But Maeve is a real teenager now. Teenagers have parties. It’s a fact of life.’
Sue gave Andy the sort of look that usually finished any conversation and he turned back to the TV.
‘See! You make it sound like I’m going to get into trouble or something, Mum. Like you don’t trust me.’
‘It’s not that. I trust you. I just don’t trust the world.’
‘Mum! It’s only a party! Do you mean you’re not going to let me go to a party until I finish high school? That’s insane!’
‘You’re not old enough to be making the sort of decisions that you need to make in those situations. Decisions that could change your life.’
‘You mean you made the wrong decision at a party once? You mean having me was the wrong decision?’
Maeve knew she’d gone too far. She was definitely going to lose the argument now. She wasn’t meant to know about how she was conceived.
Sue didn’t miss a beat. ‘I was a lot older than you, Maeve. I was an adult. There is absolutely no comparison. If you think flinging something like that at me is going to help win me over, you are even less mature than I’d given you credit for.’
The Secret Life of Maeve Lee Kwong Page 2
